A Villain for Christmas (The Holyoake Christmas Series, Book 2)

Pan and Scan

Billie started by addressing the most glaring misconception that the 'Holyoake wives' had just voiced.

"I'm not a librarian," she said in a low voice. "Not anymore. I just work in a shop."

"Once a librarian, always a librarian," Fiona Holyoake stated. "I'll go get our wine. I think I'll switch to the Shiraz too. What would you like, Sybil? Red or white?"

"Red, please."

Viola chimed in, "Let Federico choose it for Sybil, Fiona. I wouldn't trust Rhys with it. He just goes with what's the most expensive."

"True. And Will just sticks to his whisky." Fiona nodded.

"Oliver is generally disinterested in earthly matters such as drink and food; unless it's pudding," Ulla joked.

"John would know, of course, but he's in London tonight," Fiona continued listing the men in the family and then added, "You've got the most sophisticated of them."

She gave Billie a cheeky little smile. Billie internally screamed that she hadn't 'got' anyone, and Dair especially.

"We're just colleagues," she rushed to clear this new misunderstanding.

"Uh-huh," Fiona and Ulla answered in unison.

"We are!" Billie was starting to panic a tad. She'd been wrong: that was the most troublesome fallacy in the women's minds. "I assure you, that's all that's happening," she insisted. "Ms. Roel suggested me as a liaison between the county and the director of the film - and that's all! And it's going to be over in a couple of weeks."

She shrugged - hopefully, nonchalantly. She preferred not to ponder the fact that if the film did get made, Dair probably wouldn't have time for Billie. Most so, he'd be bored of lugging her around before the end of the fortnight anyroad.

The Holyoakes exchanged meaningful looks - except Billie wasn't sure what said meaning was.

"So, what's new in the world of book sales?" Ulla asked after clearing her throat.

The vicar's partner was known around the county for her proclivity for taking care of the miserably inadequate and the pitifully worthless. It was in the job description after all. Billie gave her a grateful look. The evasion might have been rather clumsy - but full-heartedly appreciated.

For the next few minutes they chatted about the latest releases in mysteries and thrillers. Nana and Viola stayed out of the conversation, while Fiona kept shuttling between the sitting room and the kitchen bringing everyone drinks and confirming allergies and intolerances. Soon, the most delicious smells trickled into the room.

"Could I wash my hands, please?" Billie asked.

"Let me show you the bathroom," Fiona offered.

They made their way into the hallway, but instead of leading her into the more logical direction - towards a couple of doors in the end of the corridor - Fiona beckoned Billie towards the source of jolly male voices, and the aromas of meat, tomatoes, and herbs.

"Mrs. Holyoake, why are we–" Billie whispered frantically.

"Call me Fiona," the other woman corrected Billie in a hushed voice. "Come on, I want a peek."

Billie started backing off, but Fiona kept nodding towards the kitchen and creeping forwards. The reflex to obey red-headed women especially if they spoke in an authoritative tone, kicked in; and Billie soon found herself peeping from around the corner. Thankfully, they were well-hidden by the darkness and an advantageous angle.

The kitchen was massive, in the same Victorian style as the rest of the cottage. It had been renovated, all appliances new and in order, but the styling was impeccable. The surfaces were tile and wood, including a massive spacious island in the centre.